We may begin at the most dramatic point--the crime itself. Since we know practically nothing of the crime except through his admissions, we will begin with the confession. And first, why was there a confession? It is safe to say that there is not a sensible man or boy the country over who, knowing the facts in the case, would not say, "What a fool Jean was to confess!" Nobody but an imbecile would have confessed under those circumstances; they had no evidence against him, nor did they pretend they had; he testifies that they told him that they thought he was guilty of the crime; they did not pretend that they knew he was guilty; there were no third-degree methods used; they had taken his clothing off and examined him, but they had not found any blood or any evidence, and the clothing had only just been removed when Jean began to tell his story. He had not been promised any immunity if he should confess; in fact, he had been told that anything that he said would be used against him, but still he persisted in telling the whole story. But we do not have to rely upon the fact that it looks foolish to us for him to have confessed, because we have the fact, well known to all who have to deal with imbeciles, that it is characteristic of them to do just this thing. They do not always confess, it is true. It seems to depend largely upon how proud they are of their deeds--and frequently the more atrocious these are, the prouder they are of them. It is perfectly clear that such was the case with Jean. He made some little attempt to get away, at least he made what appeared like an attempt to get away; there really is no evidence that he was doing anything more than he had done many times before, going away from home to seek work elsewhere, with that _wanderlust_ which is also characteristic of imbeciles. He walked down the railroad track toward Newport, not going very fast, not taking any precautions to avoid being seen, and when met by some one whom he knew, he came willingly back to Poland.